


The Saints of Hell

by Music_Saved_Me



Series: The Saints of Hell [1]
Category: The Saints of Hell
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:25:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Music_Saved_Me/pseuds/Music_Saved_Me





	1. Chapter 1

Darkness was the greatest ally of any rebellion, obscuring the insurrection from the all-seeing eye of the all-powerful state. As a solitary figure slunk through the streets of a sleeping urban center, they ruminated on the notion that it was more daunting to be returning home than it was to endure unforgiving desert life. Lost in their own thoughts, the figure was oblivious to the seemingly innocuous particulate matter than rose up from the silent streets, swirling lazily and glowing like faint moonlight. There was one last moment of silence before the darkness was shattered by the thunderous roar of footsteps and intrusive beams of halogen light piercing the night. With an expletive, the figure bolted, the flurry of movement dislodging a dog-eared photograph from their pocket. As the Polaroid fluttered to the ground, it caught the light and showed the night sky a trio of conspicuous figures- one, androgynous, with silver hair and freckles with dark grey and gold lipstick; one, male, with angelic blonde hair and a tattoo on his left cheek; and a third, female, with freckles and coal black hair from a rough dye job. Two were attempting to block the camera as each pressed a kiss to the third figure’s cheek. The blank space beneath the photograph had been filled with a barely legible scrawl but with another time, one could decipher that it had been captioned ‘Bullet, Cyanide and Alien say hey! (Summer ’19)’. The figure that had fled stopped in alley a few blocks from where they had been detected and bent forwards, panting harshly. In the dim light of a streetlamp, they stepped up to the dirty glass of a nearby window and tugged at their grey hair as if willing to behave before slipping their hand into their coat pocket. “Shit” they mumbled, slowly paling and reaching into their other pocket, “Oh no... No no no.” they moaned despondently as they realized that the photo must have slipped out when they had begun to run. They stumbled backwards and hit the wall, slowly sliding down the rough brickwork before coming to rest on the cracked concrete. “I can’t believe I lost them…the one thing I had left of them…” They stewed in their despair until the sun had risen above the ruined city before moving on, taking back roads and alleys to avoid close calls. It wasn’t that hard to find the building they were looking for. They crossed a few train tracks, city roads, and passed several stores. After a few minutes, they stopped in front of a four story building, whose mossy façade was punctuated by a large stained-glass mural and imposing granite sign. Years of neglect and exposure to the elements had anonymized the building by stripping away the sign’s engravings and embellishments but the tired figure couldn’t help but crack a smile. A few minutes after knocking, the door was opened by a tall, lean man with piercing amber eyes. The figure waiting for admission was surprised. “Professor? What are ya doin’ here?” They asked with a quizzical tilt of the head. “Could be askin’ the same of you…gone thirty years but not a day added to your features. Why don’t you come in, safer and warmer that way.” The man who had been labelled as ‘Professor’ stood aside and allowed his guest into the building’s lobby. The light from electric lamps in ornate sconces was soft and warm, illuminating the Professor’s blood-red ponytail. His preferred style still appeared to a bespoke tweed suit and as he turned to look over his shoulder, the newcomer could see that his smirk was the same, “Besides, this is my home. Did I not inform ya of that the last time ah saw ya?” “You may have done, sir” came the mumbled reply as the two of them moved into a spacious and carefully furnished sitting room. The Professor indicated to a somewhat overstuffed armchair in front of a modest fire, “Coffee? I seem to remember that you take yours black with extra caffeine.” “Thank you, sir” they smiled softly and watched as the professor brewed, strained and poured coffee, setting a cup carefully in front of their curled form. “So you’re home.” The Professor began once he had settled in an armchair of his own, “Why’d ya leave where you were?” “It’s hard to be me and stay under the radar out in the desert. Vivid colors and flair don’t mix with beige san-” they stiffened as a creak echoed from outside the room, indicating an individual descending the staircase. “Scarlett, why do I smell coffee at half-past four in the morning? And was someone knocking at the door?” A woman had appeared partway down the staircase, a gossamer shift covered by an untied silk robe, the lamps causing her olive skin to glow. A high black ponytail swished behind her as she shifted her weight and an eyepatch obscured her left eye. The Professor stood and turned, offering a small smile: “Raven. We have an unexpected visitor. This is one of my old students and they have just returned from a lengthy trip abroad. Slate, this is my partner Raven. I’m sorry we woke you, dear.” Raven shrugged as she descended the stairs fully and moved over to where Scarlett had made coffee, carefully brewing herself a cup of tea, “It’s alright I suppose. Gives me a chance to check the comms. We haven’t received any word from anyone, have we?” “Not since I’ve been up.” “The antennae at Massillon must still be janky then. They did promise to check in after all.” Slate looked between the pair, perplexed. Had the capitol changed so much while they were away? They still remembered it as nothing more than a cursed city full of snobs, pricks, criminals and the occasional aristocrat. They chewed their lip before clearing their throat: “So, heh, I guess things have changed a lot since I was gone…” “A lot of people have come and gone, kid. A lot of places too. You need to know about anyone in particular?” Raven asked matter-of-factly as she settled in a rigid wooden rocking chair. “My family primarily- siblings, adoptive father.” “Well, we do have a backdoor into the government database. Can you give us a description of each person you’re looking for?” Scarlett asked as he opened a tablet sized computer and let it run its course. Slate took a breath and closed their eyes, trying to picture each of their relatives in turn. “Rose is a coroner and very energetic. To be honest, there isn’t anything Rose doesn’t love. Hazel is an author/office drone. She may not like working where she does but she has the perseverance to keep at it. Nyx is a bartender and hardcore gun nut. She might have a record because she was never one to back down from a fight…” they trailed off, caught up in memories of their siblings. Scarlett appreciated the nature of the moment and reached over, petting Slate’s head softly. “We’ll see what the search turns up. Besides, I have a strong suspicion that I know one of them personal-” he stopped as three smart knocks on the front door reverberated through the house. Scarlett signaled for Raven to take Slate upstairs and adjusted his suit, buying the other two enough time to hide on the landing before answering the door. Held against Raven by the older woman’s vice-like grip, Slate strained to hear the conversation happening at the front door. “Good morning sir. My name is Zakarias Cain, Detective Inspector within the Royal Knights Judicial Force. Earlier this morning, a dangerous criminal, thought to be armed, was detected entering the city limits over in Sector Seven. Eyewitness reports and surveillance footage indicate that the fugitive in question moved through the city and was last seen here in Sector Nine. If anyone comes to your door and uses the name ‘Silver Marie Law’, please inform the authorities.” “Ah certainly will, Detective Inspector.” “Thank you for your vigilance, citizen. Before I go though, do any of the individuals in this photo look familiar? They may be somewhat older now but the fugitive is believed to have dropped this photograph and we believe that they individuals may be associates who live in the area.” Slate stifled a gasp- their photo! There was a long pause as Scarlett presumable made a show of studying the photograph, “’m real sorry sir but ah ain’t never seen them ‘round these parts.” “Very well then. Thank you for your co-operation citizen and remember, vigilance is the best weapon against anarchy.” “Thank you, Detective Inspector.” Scarlett smiled sycophantically and closed the door, “Raven dear, could you get Rose on the wire? I think he’d be pleased to hear that his one of his siblings is back in town. I’m going to go refresh myself.” He winked at Slate and disappeared into a room along the landing. Slate turned to Raven, mouth full of questions, but it seemed that Raven was expecting it. “We know your brother. In fact we share a very intimate relationship with them. I think Scarlett put one and one together when the RK used that name. And Scarlett’s a vampire, understandable that you didn’t know but yes, he’s a vampire and occasionally, he needs to maintain his composure through a brief private feeding. We’ll leave him to it for the moment. In fact, the computer won’t finish scouring the databases for some time. Take one of the spare bedrooms and get some rest. There will be plenty of time to go through things later.” Slate was too tired to argue and staggered down the hall, finding an unoccupied room and crashing onto the bed, asleep before they hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

This room is almost a second home to me. I know its stark, steel walls and uncomfortable grated floor like I know my childhood bedroom. I’ve been questioned in here enough times to memorize its features. The Terminators, the wretched city’s ‘judicial enforcement agency’, have spent more time restraining me and pummelling me for information than I care to keep track of.  
The questions are always the same- what is my relationship to City Employee #221450? Why did I leave the city? Where did I go? Who were my contacts beyond the city limits? For the most part, I gave the vague answers and half-truths. I couldn’t give up the ones I loved. I couldn’t betray The Lobby, that bastion of individuality and freedom. However, the Terminators didn’t have to rely on physical coercion alone. They would extract my memories; threaten me with death when I tried to sabotage the extraction process.  
Sleep was a fickle luxury. Most nights the guilt of my betrayal chased it away; other nights the guards made sure I was unable to sleep- booming music, buckets of freezing water. Time is a bad joke in the cells- you could have been gone years, only to have it feel like days. It was during these periods of forced insomnia that the Terminators were at their worst- they played nice so it only hurt more when they kicked you in the cunt. Fresh clothes and a cup of coffee came with the caveat of having to recall my mother’s death in vivid detail.  
They would hound me over every detail- the way I nervously avoided the cliques in the schoolyard as I tried to rush home after final period; the splitting headache that a convoy of emergency service vehicles gave me as they raced past on the main road; the single, world-shattering gunshot I heard as my hand touched the front door of my home; the lemon-yellow kitchen splattered with mom’s blood and viscera; the confusion and indigence as the RKJF tore my home apart.  
Then everything rewinds. I’m there in the kitchen- mom’s going for the knife block as a man with no face calmly points a pistol at her. A moment later and there’s muzzle flash which grows and grows and grows, rushing towards me, wanting to consume me…  
Slate jerked awake, arms above their face like they were bracing for an impact. They were in an unfamiliar bed and it took them a moment to remember that they were in one of Scarlett’s spare rooms. Downstairs, they could hear an overworked kitchen fan and the shrill whistle of a tea kettle. Slate yawned and attempted to tame their hair before padding out of their room and making a beeline for the kitchen. Raven was attending to the kettle as they entered and gave them a small smile:  
“Sleep well?”  
“Not really.”  
“Well, I’ve got some news for ya. Your brother’s tied up for a few hours more, taking care of his little ones, but he’ll be around when he can. Hazel is manning her shop, or she should be. I had to leave a message but I’m sure she’ll dash over once she hears that you’re back. Nyx, or Midnight as she prefers these days, is scheduled to drill some new recruits…” As Raven spoke, Slate cast their eye around the kitchen, settling on a small board attached to the wall by four gleaming screws. The board was filled with neatly aligned gold plaques, each bearing a single name. It was evidently a memorial board and Slate was surprised at the sheer number of losses the organisation had sustained while they had been away. Raven stopped debating as to where ‘Violet’ was and caught Slate staring at the board. Silently, the older woman glided across the room and carefully hung a black cloth over the board, “That is for another time, a not so optimistic time” she said softly, with enough edge to persuade Slate that it was not an issue to pursue:  
“I have some errands to attend to. I shouldn’t be too long. Why don’t you try to sleep a little more? You can grab a sleeping pill from the bathroom if that’ll do anything for you.” Raven maintained the steely edge, somewhat embittered that the newcomer to her home seemed impervious to good news  
“Uh yeah…that sounds good. I’ll uh, I’ll get right on that.” Slate asked with a nervous laugh that did nothing to alleviate the awkward atmosphere between the two of them  
“Sky blue pills about the length of your fingernail. I think the bottle is on the second shelf in the cabinet behind the mirror above the sink.” Raven managed a polite smile, “I’ll see you later and hopefully, we’ll have gathered a few more visitors for you.” With that, Raven turned and disappeared into the hallway. Begging for the awkwardness to abate, Slate waited until they heard Raven close the front door before they headed back upstairs and sought out the familiar expanse of their bedroom. Someone was moving about in the room above them and Slate had the urge to call out to them. However, as they opened their mouth, the room began to spin and once again, they were fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Guilt is a hell of poison. It doesn’t kill you quick; it won’t even kill you period most of the time. No, guilt eats you from the inside, eroding everything decent about you until you’re a lifeless husk who’s only good to put a gun to their temple or a blade to their wrist.  
I didn’t even get the luxury of suicide. The Terminators kept me bound in a straitjacket after my first week. Then they’d drag me to the interrogation room and string me, let me hang by y wrists for an hour before seating me at a table and showing me Polaroid after Polaroid of someone they’d gunned down because of my intel. Friends, family, lovers- all gone because I’d got caught.  
What a husk I’ve become. I should die. I wish I had the choice…  
A polite knock at the door woke Slate from their fitful sleep. They grumbled and sat up, rubbing one eye and squinting at the door:  
“Yeah?”  
“You decent in there?”  
“Who’s asking?” The door swung open and Slate was faced with two individuals whose faces had changed but could never be forgotten, “Holy shit. Derek? Violet?” Slate squeaked, launching themselves out of bed and into the arms of their sister and adopted father,  
“Hey kiddo” Derek growled softly, giving Slate a rough hug and slapping their back as Violet bounced on the balls of her feet beside him. Once he’d had enough of the hugging, he turned Slate over to Violet, who pulled them into a tight hug and inadvertently suffocated them as Slate was pulled into her impressive bosom:  
“Oh it’s so good to have you back!” Violet trilled happily  
“Yeah, it’s getting better with each passing moment…” Slate replied hoarsely as they gently freed themselves from the warm but suffocating embrace. Violet continued to beam at them while Derek tried to maintain his grumpy façade. There were a few awkward moments as they stood in a loose triangle, unsure of how to proceed:  
“Oh! Why don’t we catch up while showing you around the town? You won’t have seen it for years!” Violet suggested, always a quick thinker. Slate finally allowed themselves to smile,  
“Vi, you just read my mind.”


End file.
